


Breakwater

by antimone_ii



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Kidnapping, M/M, Monsterfucking, Tentacle Rape, octopus!Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-31 05:29:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20787374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antimone_ii/pseuds/antimone_ii
Summary: The man is…wrong. He towers over Peter between his bound legs, tall and muscular with a look of unmistakable hunger in his pale eyes. It takes a moment to see properly with the light so slowly illuminating the freezing cave, but the creature between Peter's legs cannot be human. Below the man's muscular abdomen is a writhing mass of tendrils. Dark red and thick, smooth and slimy with a bioluminescent glow that outlines each awful tentacle."Don't be scared," the creature leers. "It might even feel good." And then another tendril is creeping up his thigh, slick and cool, so slow it feels almost loving.Or: The one where Bucky is a mer-octopus, and he decides to take Peter as his mate.





	Breakwater

**Author's Note:**

> **Trigger warnings** for noncon and general kidnapping themes. This is just tentacle porn.

Caught in the high seas, the Queen’s ship cracks and strains under the crashing of waves. Fierce winds whip at the sails, and Peter throws his arms over his face as the main mast splits in half, a terrible crack rending the air. Soaked to the bone, Peter clings to the ship’s frayed ropes, shouting to his shipmates as loud as he can - still, the howling storm drowns everything out.

Helpless to the ocean’s careless tossing, Peter can only watch in horror as a roiling wave rises - taller than their entire ship - and crashes down on them. He hears men screaming, the splintering of the hull, and then black water descends on him in an impenetrable wall.

Peter has only a fraction of a moment to grab onto something -- anything -- he scrabbles at the deck, but it doesn’t matter. The ocean swallows the ship whole.

Flung from the deck, Peter hits the water with a shout. He fights to the surface of the water, freezing saltwater filling his lungs and dragging him down. He can see other men bobbing in the water, some floating limp, others screaming to God for mercy. The storm brews on, uncaring, and Peter treads desperately in the ocean, certain that this is how he dies.

In the turmoil, he sees a wooden log - part of the main mast splintered apart, and he swims toward it, hoping to cling for his life. His body is frozen and his muscles are screaming with the exertion, but he reaches out. The tips of his fingers brush against the slippery surface, and then --

Something wraps around his ankle. Peter pulls at his leg, then screams as it _ tugs_, dragging him underwater. Thinking it must be a piece of rope from the ship, he kicks frantically to free himself. He makes it to the surface long enough to take in a gulp of air, and then another thick rope coils tight around his other leg. Peter reaches desperately for the mast, arms outstretched, and then he’s lurched underwater once more. Water fills his mouth, then his lungs, and it feels like he’s being pinched around the skull. This is what it feels like to drown, Peter, realizes, and he watches the black sea churning above him as the ocean drags him down, down, down.

  


Cold. _ Cold_, and wet.

Everything hurts. With a weak moan, Peter tries to open his eyes, but finds they’re glued shut by dried saltwater. He sits up and rubs at his face, huddling into himself. When he blinks his eyes open, panic clenches at his chest.

He can’t see. The world is pitch black. He pushes himself upright, feeling cold, wet rock beneath his palms. He tentatively crawls forward, not daring to speak, and feels the land around him. He can’t tell how far it goes, all he can do is reach out blindly with his arms and pray he finds light.

The craggy rocks beneath him cut at his hands and knees, but he doesn’t stop. He has no idea where he is, he’s not even completely sure he’s alive -- but suddenly, his outstretched hand reaches out and touches freezing water.

Fear and hope rise in Peter’s heart in equal measure. He shuffles forward cautiously, discovering that he must be on the rocky shoreline of some underwater cave. He carefully dips his arm down, but unable to feel the bottom, he pulls it back quickly, his heart hammering loud in his ribcage.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” drawls a low voice.

Peter stifles a yelp, backing away from the water quickly. Something-- someone-- is in the water right in front of him. “H- Hello?”

“Lots of hungry creatures ‘round these parts. You’d feed a whole school of sharks, you know.” The voice seems to drift around the cavern, reverberating eerily off the enclosed rock walls. “I thought you might be too skinny at first.” A wet slap echoes to his left. Instinctive dread clutches at Peter’s heart. “Plenty of muscle though. And we can fatten you up quick enough.” The voice sounds pleased, closer than before.

“Where are you? S- Sir, do you know the way out?” Peter tries making peace, even as he shuffles backwards, scraping his hands raw.

The man laughs, a low chuckle that sounds closer yet, though Peter can’t hear any footsteps. “Maybe. Why don’t you come closer?”

Peter doesn’t know much about his situation, but he is certain he wants to be as far away from this man as possible. He stumbles to his feet and begins to run through the dark.

He doesn’t make it far.

Something cold and _ slimy _ snaps out, coiling tight around his bare ankle. Peter screams as the thing drags his feet out from underneath him - he hits the jagged ground with a cry of pain. He can taste blood on his lip. Pure adrenaline floods his system and he claws at the rocks, kicking at the thing around his leg.

A second coil snaps around his other ankle. Peter thrashes, scraping himself bloody on the rocks, but the thing ensnaring him just wraps tighter around his legs, completely unbothered by his struggling. “You should hold still,” the man says in his low voice, “it’ll make this go easier.”

“Let me go!” Peter begs, yelping as he’s flipped over onto his back, his legs strung up high into the air. “Stop, you have to let me go!”

He gasps as another slimy limb works underneath the hem of his trousers, tearing it off effortlessly and exposing his naked skin to the freezing air. Then, he feels something wet and _ horrible _, curling around his exposed cock. He bucks uselessly in the air, shuddering in a frightened breath and reaches his hands down between his legs, frantically trying to push the thing off of him.

It’s some snake-like creature, but as Peter sobs and tries to free himself, the slick thing wrapped around his cock just squeezes down in pulses, like it has a mind of its own. When Peter claws uselessly at it, the coil squelches and sucks at his skin, and he can feel precome dribble from the tip of his unwilling prick.

“Hold _ still_,” the man orders, his voice lowering into a growl. “I’d hate to _ break _ you so soon.”

A fresh sob escapes Peter’s throat, and he shakes his head furiously. “Stop, wait--!” he tries, grasping for any mercy. 

At last, the coils wrapped tight around him pause their molesting. They don’t let go though, and Peter holds his breath, eyes staring wide into the empty blackness in front of him. Then, slowly, a faint, strange light begins to glow in front of him.

Peter thinks he’s imagining it at first - it’s the strangest thing. The light seems to form in long, tangled ribbons in front of him, pale greenish-white, unlike any light Peter’s seen before. The limbs holding his legs captive take on that same eerie glow, and as the light gets stronger and brighter, Peter has to swallow down his scream of terror at the sight before him.

The man is… _ wrong_. He towers over Peter between his bound legs, tall and muscular with a look of unmistakable hunger in his pale eyes. He leans forward and takes a hold of Peter’s trembling ankle, tracing cold fingers over his skin idly, like he’s admiring a possession. But the wrongness isn’t in the way the man looks at Peter, or even in the way he touches Peter like a prize trophy. It takes a moment to see properly with the light so slowly illuminating the freezing cave, but the creature between Peter's legs cannot be human. Below the man's muscular abdomen is a writhing mass of tendrils. Dark red and thick, smooth and slimy with a bioluminescent glow that outlines each awful tentacle. The ones wrapped around Peter's legs squeeze at him tighter and hoist his lower half up into the air, and Peter has to swallow a scream as he watches the suckers on each tentacle's underside grope and squelch against his skin, keeping him captive in their sinewy grasp.

"Don't be scared," the creature leers, the tentacle wrapped around Peter's cock slowly pumping him again with a wet sucking noise. "It might even feel good." And then another tendril is creeping up his thigh, slick and cool, then pressing into the crease of his ass, so slow it feels almost loving.

Peter twists and squirms so fitfully his muscles cramp up with the effort and tears prick at his eyes. He's hyperventilating, he can hear himself gasping and mewling - he feels so _ weak _ \- and still, the cold tip of the creature's tentacle probes at his hole, unbothered by his pointless struggling.

The head of the tentacle wriggles gently at first, oozing slime against his entrance as it tries to work its way inside. "No, no, _ no, _ ” Peter cries, tensing up rigid, refusing to let that _ thing _ inside him.

The man bears down on him, showing his teeth in an irritated snarl, then the tendrils ensnaring Peter _ wrench _his legs wide apart -- and the blunt head of the creature’s tentacle spears him open. 

Peter’s mouth drops open in a silent scream. He can feel the slick tentacle burrowing inside him, wriggling eagerly from side to side as it pushes its way in. “St- _ Stop_,” he pleads breathlessly, but the creature ignores him. The tentacle presses insistently against his walls, worming deep inside him, so deep he swears he can feel it in his guts. “It’s too much, _ please_,” he moans, and as much as he kicks and squirms, he can’t dislodge the awful tentacles wrapped around and inside of him.

The creature meets his eyes, and he grins at Peter, baring white teeth. “Too much? I told you, you need to _ relax_.” The slimy tentacle curled around his genitals squeezes again, massaging against his balls and his soft cock.

Peter lets out a shuddering whimper as pleasure seeps up his spine, warm and _ too much _ as it fills out his cock, every tight suck and squeeze of the creature’s appendage sliding between his legs making his body twitch alive with electricity.

“W- Wait,” he gasps, his back arching as the suckers along its underside squelch obscenely at his balls and the delicate skin of his perineum. Shame flushes his cheeks hot, and he turns his face away, unable to watch.

The tendril inside his ass starts gently moving again, just from side-to-side, like it’s trying to acclimate Peter to the sensation. It presses against his walls, rubbing against his insides in the same spot, and Peter hears himself moaning, breathy little sounds escaping him as heat builds at the base of his cock.

It’s humiliating how good it feels, and though Peter’s legs are still cramped up with his fitful twitching, it doesn’t _ hurt _ anymore, his terror morphing into an unwanted pleasure.

“There we are,” the creature coos down at him, and Peter bites back a shuddering sob as he’s dragged over his climax, pearly cum splattering over his belly.

The creature doesn’t let up, only tightening his grip around Peter’s cock and pressing the furrowed tip of his tentacle deeper against his insides, milking him through it. The struggle bleeds out of Peter, and he sags lifelessly in the creature’s arms, finally pliant.

The creature seizes his opportunity then, and with a vicious grunt, the slimy tentacle forces its way in deeper - _ harder _than ever, stretching Peter’s rim around its girth.

Peter does cry out this time, though it’s a pathetic little sound. His eyes roll back in his head as his cock twitches against his belly, releasing another shot of cum that lands salty and bitter on his own face. He can’t fight back anymore, can’t even _ think _ through the heavy, sweet haze of his orgasm. 

The creature thrusts into Peter then, pulling out just a few inches, only to fuck his thick, slippery tentacle back in deeper and harder, wet slaps echoing loudly through the cave each time.

Each thrust scrapes his back raw on the cave floor, but the coils wrapped around his ankles drag him back onto the creature's penetrating tendril, keeping him wrapped tight around every last inch of him. Peter can hear the gurgled little moans being fucked out of him, humiliating whines of “_Unh, ahh-- haahh--! _”

He whimpers as the thing sinks inside him and suddenly stops thrusting, buried so deep inside he can’t even breathe through it. Then, something pulses through him, like the tentacle itself is shuddering, and the creature above him hisses in satisfaction. Peter realizes the tentacle is _ spilling _ inside him - it’s hot and wet and _ too much _ \- his mouth gapes open like a fish as he’s pumped full, so stuffed he’s terrified he’ll burst.

“You’re doing so good, my love… Taking my seed so well,” the creature rumbles, his voice a low purr that seems to echo in Peter’s ears.

The words don’t really process. All Peter can think about is the slippery tentacle rubbing against his insides, the warm wet seed flooding his insides and building heat in his guts until his spent cock is filling out again. Every nerve feels alight with a feverish sort of pleasure.

His vision blurs over with tears as he watches that dark, wet tendril start to pump itself slowly between his legs again, filthy sucking noises loud as it fucks through its release. Peter lets out one last little sob, and then he loses time.


End file.
